


solar flare of fireworks

by faege



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faege/pseuds/faege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> <i>There was a time when all you needed to be happy was a skinny boy in a sweatshirt. Remember?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	solar flare of fireworks

**Author's Note:**

>  Inspired by [this beautiful vid](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XU5MD3t3j7g) by Pelmeshka777.

There was a time when all you needed to be happy was a skinny boy in a sweatshirt. When he thought you hung the moon and you thought he was every star in the universe.

“The sun is a star,” he told you once and you said yeah, you know.

Because sometimes it hurts to look at him.

:::

It’s pitch-black the night he turns to go, revolves away from your sphere to take his warmth elsewhere. It’s pitch-black and raining, a fine mist that feels like tears, and you can’t even watch him leave. You’ll go blind if you do.

But months later, when you’re cold and alone in a damp motel room, you replay it over and over in your head. You remember it enough that you wonder if he blinded you anyway. Because it wasn’t just that night that was pitch-black.

Now it’s everything.

:::

You’re reminded of this when you’re swept off to Heaven and Heaven consists of the glare of headlights on wet asphalt, fireflies swirling in the gloom, a crate of fireworks, and a boy with shaggy hair who hasn’t grown into his teeth. He grins at you and you squint, thinking that you were wrong when you thought only the moon took the form of a crescent.

Through the haze of falling sparks, the images blur, one becoming the other. The boy is the sun, is a burning firework, a sparkler chasing the lightning bugs, a golden rain that collects in your soul and burns you there, burns you until your soul steams and boils and runs out your eyes in hot tears.

Because you remember that boy and wonder how you could ever have lost him.

:::

There was a time when all you needed to be happy was a skinny boy in a sweatshirt. Remember?

Things haven’t changed so much.

  



End file.
